


R E S E T

by TwinKats



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dadster, Frisk/Sans if you squint, Gaster is a creepy stalker, Gen, Genderfluid Frisk, Other, Post-Pacifist Route, Something went wrong with a reset, asexual Frisk, except Chara who ruins everything, genderneutral Frisk, mostly everything is just friendships, slight Sans/Toriel at some points, slightly unaware Frisk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2015-12-03
Packaged: 2018-05-04 01:07:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5314298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwinKats/pseuds/TwinKats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’d been 10 years, the longest happy ending Sans had ever recorded. So long that he was certain it was finally over. Frisk wouldn’t reset again, not now. They weren’t a child anymore. It was over, finally, completely, over.</p><p>Only Sans wakes up in his bed, underground, and the happy ending is gone again...but he's not in Snowdin, and he's not holding seven jobs while being Asgore's Judge. And then there's Gaster.</p><p><i>Dead</i> Gaster, <i>not dead</i>.</p><p>Sans isn't even sure what's going on anymore, but he's damn certain the kid is to blame. After all, the kid was the anomaly. They had to be. How else could they have had the power to RESET?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Anomaly

**10 Years Post-Ending**  

“Hey, Sans?” Frisk asked, head tilted back up to stare at the stars in the sky. They could feel Sans’ ribs flex at their back. 

The skeleton’s bones rumbled as he spoke. “Ya buddy?” 

Frisk hummed and tried to think of how to phrase what they wanted to say. Their silence lead to a gentle rattle of Sans’ bones. Frisk raised their hand up towards the sky instead and gnawed at their lip in an attempt to piece together the words they wanted to use. 

“…what’s a reset?” they eventually asked. They tilted their head back until they could see Sans’ mandible, eyes curious and yet hidden behind the fringe of their hair. 

Sans, beneath Frisk, sort of just stilled. His face sat frozen in that particular smile of his. The one that Frisk knew meant he was trying to hide his racing thoughts. White pinpricks darted down to look at Frisk’s face, and for a second Frisk thought they saw them dim to complete darkness. 

“What’re ya talkin’ bout, there, kid?” Sans asked. His mandible didn’t even move this time, his face set still. If it weren’t from the steady shift of his ribs then Frisk would have mistaken him for a statue. 

Frisk turned fully around until they were kneeling in front of Sans. They gnawed on their lip and let their hair fall into their eyes. When they spoke it was quiet. “I…sometimes, at night, you talk about ‘resetting’ or a ‘reset’ and you always say it with such fear and I just…I know it’s a nightmare but it scares you and…” 

Sans’ eyes went dark. “Bucko, this ain’t funny,” he said slowly, his voice took on the silent, eerie quality that Frisk only heard in their nightmares and dreams of blood and fire. 

“I’m…not joking, Sans,” Frisk mumbled. The bones of Sans’ hands creaked as he clenched them tight. 

“T h i s a i n ‘ t f u n n y k i d,” Sans drew out slower, voice almost dead silent. The words themselves seemed to only reverberate in Frisk’s mind. 

Frisk grit their teeth. They fought down the sudden strike of fear and scrubbed at the tears that began to fall down their face. With a yell of, “I’m serious, Sans!” Frisk shot to their feet and turned away. They cried and scrubbed at their face. “I don’t know what it is but it scares you and that scares me and it won’t leave me alone I swear I’m not joking Sans I swear.” 

Their shoulders shook, and their face covered with snot and tears. For a while Frisk sobbed and Sans sat there, eyes dark and bone ridged down in a frown. His perpetual smile finally vanished and every piece of him seemed tense. There’d be a flash of blue, then nothing, and another flash intermittently as Frisk sobbed.

_Sigh._

_Stop._

The scene froze, but not because it was ordered to or made to. It froze because it was perceived to be frozen. From the depths of the darkness Gaster tilted his head and stared at Frisk, and at Sans, through cracked and damaged eyes. He reached out one hand and lightly touched the teenagers shoulder, and then another and touched Sans too.

Neither would notice the touch as to them it wouldn’t have happened, but to Gaster it did. Sometimes, being a silent observer, made everything so much worse. Especially when he sat here and watched his children fight in such a way. He sighed.

_Anomalous._

_Ignorant._

_Just comfort them already, Sans._

The instant ended and Sans got up with a groan and a rattle and a tough sigh. 

“I’m sorry, kid,” Sans mumbled, eyes still pitch as black. “I didn’t mean t’scare ya. Tibia honest I didn’t expect your question, there.” 

Frisk laughed beneath their tears and scrubbed at their eyes harder. 

“Y-You didn’t scare me,” they said. 

“You’re a bad liar, bucko,” Sans replied. He sighed and stuffed his hands into his jeans. “Look, kid. Frisk. It’s just a nightmare. Something silly, that’s all. It doesn’t mean a thing.”

_Liar._

_Liar. Lying liar, liar._

_Tell the truth._

_How can’t they know?_

_Strange._

_Different._

_It’s. Fascinating._

“It means something to you,” Frisk muttered petulantly as Sans stepped up and pulled them into a hug. They stood at his height, now. In fact just a bit taller, if Sans were to be generous. 

“Well yeah, but,” Sans said with a shrug of his shoulders, “I don’t even remember it, really.” 

_Variables the same._

_You never change, do you, Sans?_

_Faulty._

Gaster flittered around the two of them, observed the scene, and cocked his head to the side. 

 _Faulty_. That was a good word for it. _Faulty._

_This path is faulty._

“Oh…” Frisk mumbled. “I…guess I made a mess of things, then….” 

“Nah,” Sans leaned his head back. “Glad to have that out in the open, y’know?” He shot Frisk a grin. “So what brought this on, anyway? You tryin’ to find a boneful meaning out of my dreams or somethin’?” 

Frisk shook their head fiercely with a laugh. “No,” they said. “I just….” 

Together Frisk and Sans turned to stare back up at the stars. Sans let Frisk be quiet. They’d always been a quiet child, and as a teenager they weren’t one to mince words much either. They’d get out what they wanted to say when they wanted to say it, and not a moment sooner. 

Frisk sighed. “I have nightmares too.” 

Sans’ grip on them tightened. “Yeah?” 

“And they’re getting worse,” Frisk continued. 

“What about?” Sans asked. 

Frisk didn’t say anything. Sans didn’t need them to say anything, he understood perhaps better than anyone. A part of him itched to write it down in his journal, but that could wait for a later time. For now he remained silent. Frisk would either say it, or they wouldn’t—even if Sans already knew the answer. 

Finally, Frisk uttered one word in such a quiet whisper that, for a moment, Sans was certain he’d misheard them. 

“Darkness,” they said. 

Gaster cocked his head. Time froze.

_Curious._

_So very. Very. Curious._

He smiled. _Dark. Darker. Yet darker._

_Curious indeed._

In that moment everything **r e s e t**.

* * *

**201X**  

Gaster moved about the lab in Hotland fluidly. He poured over schematics and calculations in equal measure. He looked over the readings and calculations that came from the CORE. He double checked the parameters, triple checked them, and then rubbed the inside of his eye sockets tiredly. 

“Variables the same. Nothing changes. Broken, unending. Anomalous,” Gaster uttered, frustrated. “Useless.” He turned away from the blueprints and the work, snatched up a cup of coffee that sat on a desk, and stared out one of the windows at Hotland tiredly. 

The CORE wouldn’t provide the answers Asgore wanted, and that frustrated Gaster. The only other option would be to gather subjects, and how likely was that to happen? The calculations were astronomical and highly unlikely. The chances that they’d even get a sample to test on, before time could run out, was nearly impossible. 

Gaster didn’t like the odds. He never liked the odds. He drank the cup of coffee with a blank face. Perhaps Sans’ machine could provide him a better vantage, a way to hold together what Asgore wanted until they could come across a subject? A willing subject would be perfect, desirable even. At least then they could move down a different avenue rather than rehashing the same information, the same variables and the same results over and over again. 

“Useless,” Gaster repeated bitterly. “Entirely useless.” He turned, set his cup down, and clicked on the recorder at his table. “Entry Number Eight: CORE experimentation. Yielded same results. Variables do not change. Outcome, inevitable. Subject, irretrievable. Entire project rendered useless. Insufficient variables and calculable data. Without additional subjects….Useless.” Gaster clicked the recorder off with a snap. He clacked his mandible together, huffed, and then set the recorder down. 

Gaster had been in the lab for hours. He could use a break. With a tired sigh, the heavy weight around his shoulders from the stress and the pressure of Asgore’s demands about him, Gaster slipped out of the lab and into the hallways. The lights, yet again, appeared to be busted. Gaster glared up at them and wondered who it was to blame this time. A malfunction? Unlikely. Alphys attempting to service one of her electronic creations? Probable. Sans attempting to get him out of the lab and into the light of Hotland? Likely. Papyrus? 

Gaster frowned. Did Papyrus even know he was _here?_ It bore thinking about for a moment, and with that thought Gaster had to ask himself how long he’d even been in the lab. When was the last time he went _home?_  

Gaster found he couldn’t remember. He slapped his hand to his skull and dragged it down his face tiredly. He couldn’t remember. Wonderful. Undoubtedly he’d get an earful from Sans when he finally showed his face back at the Capitol. Papyrus wouldn’t berate him, the poor boy would be more pleased that Gaster had returned. Sans, on the other hand….. 

“Irritating,” Gaster mumbled, “but…expected.” He’d better just face the music. At least then he could get it out of the way and maybe snag a bit of rest. With a refreshed mind he could try and tackle the problem again, perhaps even Sans would have some additional input on the CORE data. Maybe there had been something he overlooked—Gaster rubbed at his eye sockets again. 

“I’ve worked too much,” he said to no one, and with a turn of his heel and around the corner, Gaster vanished. 

Shortcuts made everything easier. 

* * *

Sans woke up disoriented, the same type of disorientation he’d get when the timeline twisted, turned back in on itself, and just _reset_. Except this time everything felt worse. Sans’ bones rattled and ached in a way they hadn’t except when he’d given them a workout, and his breath felt short, his stomach—what counted as one, at least—wanted to rebel at him.  

A particularly _bad_ reset, then, Sans concluded with a groan. Usually when the resets hit this hard, he could recall something if he cast his mind back. Normally they weren’t this terrible unless Frisk had gone on a killing spree. Sans groaned and rolled himself over. What, this time, had happened? Sans wasn’t certain he wanted to know. 

With a sigh, Sans pulled himself out of the bed. He yawned and stretched his limbs, popped the joints in his spine satisfyingly, and got to his feet. He’d look at his notebook, in its protective box, later and think about the memories when he had time. For now, though, Papyrus would be yelling at him soon enough to go calibrate his puzzles, and he owed Tori a knock-knock joke. He yawned again as he stepped out of his room, too tired to follow through on one of his shortcuts at the moment. 

Sans did not expect to run face first into a tall, thinboned form dressed in an unkempt labcoat and sweater. He would admit that he stared up at the familiar face of Gaster in shock, mandible slipping slack and the faint pinpricks in his eyesockets growing larger. 

“D-Dings?” Sans choked out. 

Gaster blinked, then waved tiredly and began to sign to Sans in the way he used to do when his mind had already started the shutdown process of sleep. They stumbled over the words, almost as if Gaster wasn’t certain on what he should be saying. _Morning. Evening. Afternoon. Night?_ The brow ridge of Gaster’s skull creased. _Good times, Sans. Sleep. Talk later?_  

Without even waiting for a response Gaster slipped past Sans and into the door right next to Sans room, the middle door in the house that Sans, Gaster, and Papyrus lived in, in the capitol. Sans stared. He stood, absolutely silent as he stared. When he heard Papyrus begin off-key singing Sans turned right around and headed back into his room. He flopped face first down onto his bed, skull placed flush into his pillow. 

“What. The. Fuck,” Sans muttered. 

This was too weird.


	2. DETERMINATION

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans' panic attacks weren't because of Frisk and the Resets. They're older than that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** ~~Words written like this~~** are considered a completely different language spoken by Gaster and his family (aka: WINGDINGS duh) But I didn't want to subject ya'll to incomprehensible Wingdings so, there ;p

**201X**  

Gaster sat at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee between his hands, a thoughtful frown on his face as he tried to piece together how long he’d been off in his lab _this time_. Normally, when introspective, Gaster would have tea—often with Asgore—but lately the Royal Scientist and Monarch didn’t meet up so often. In part because every time Gaster stepped foot into their house Toriel burst into tears, and in part because a piece of him squirmed in guilty conscience. Him and Asgore scheming together never did mean bright things. 

Gaster sighed and blew on his cup. Papyrus, most likely, was off at school since Gaster hadn’t found the boy in his room slumbering away. He could vaguely remembering hearing Papyrus singing, but he wasn’t certain if that was a dream or not. If it was, well, it was a rather silly one all be told. Alternatively when Gaster checked on Sans he found the other boy snoring away on his bed, tuckered out. Paperwork and notes littered Sans’ room, much like they did Gaster’s own. 

A fond smile flickered across Gaster’s face at the thought. His boys were like a perfect mixture, and thinking of it always made him one part pleased as pie—he _had_ run up to Asgore in a tizzy when Papyrus had been born, babbling like some sort of fool with Sans trailing along behind him—and another part sad. Gaster blew on his coffee again, shoved the thoughts aside, and took a sip. 

The door to the skeleton family’s home blasted open a second later and Gaster jolted in surprise. 

“IT IS I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, RETURNED HOME FROM SCHOOL! NYEH!” Papyrus cheered, and Gaster almost doubled over laughing. “WH—DAD?!” The next second Papyrus darted from the open door to the kitchen and had barreled Gaster over into a hug. “WHEN DID YOU GET HOME?! WHERE’VE YOU BEEN!” 

Gaster laughed again, patted Papyrus on the back, and quickly began to sign to his youngest. 

_Inside voice, Papyrus. Sans is sleeping._

“OH—Oh,” Papyrus lowered his volume, but not by much. It was the entire reason Gaster wasn’t even talking. Around his youngest he often forgot what vocal relegation even _meant_. “He’s still asleep? Golly, I’ve never known Sans to be so—so— _lazy!_ ” 

 _Sans deserves to be a lazybones,_ Gaster said with a chuckle. _He works hard._

“Well yeah,” Papyrus mumbled and scuffed his boots on the floor. “How…how long are you back for this time?” 

Gaster winced. How long _had_ he been gone? 

 _I have time,_ the older skeleton said instead of even asking the question on his mind. _I was thinking of a family day._

“WOWIE! REALLY?!” and instantly the vocal regulation went out the window for Papyrus. Gaster sighed and made a sharp gesture to catch Papyrus’ attention before signing quickly. 

 _Inside voice!_  

“Ah, right,” Papyrus dropped his head instantly. “Is, um, is that why you’re not talking?” 

 _I didn’t want to wake Sans yet,_ Gaster replied and then pushed Papyrus down at the table. _Pasta?_  

“Yes! Please!” 

Gaster chuckled as he quickly worked around the stove, bursting it to light with soft purple flames. As he moved, Papyrus began to regale him with his day, talking nonstop about the other kids at school and the fieldtrip they’d taken to Hotland. They visited the labs and for a moment Gaster realized he was supposed to be providing that tour and his absence left it up to his assistant to complete. 

As Gaster placed the plate of pasta down in front of Papyrus, taking his seat at the table himself, Papyrus finished off his regaling tale with a sad, “but Asriel and Chara were missing again, today.” 

Gaster paused. 

 _I’m sorry,_ he signed quickly. _Are they well?_ He tried to hide the tremble in his hands. 

“Well Miss Jelly says they’re probably just sick,” Papyrus muttered around a mouthful of food, “and that we shouldn’t worry. But it’s weird, dad! They’re _always_ at school! I mean Chara’s mean and Asriel’s quiet and they aren’t friends of the GREAT PAPYRUS but _still_.” The younger skeleton frowned at his pasta, then looked up at Gaster pleadingly. “Can’t you ask the King if they’re okay? Please?” 

 _I’ll let him know you’re worried,_ Gaster said. _I’m sure they’re fine, though._  

Papyrus seemed a bit confused, and Gaster wondered if he let any part of his thoughts slip accidentally before Papyrus went back into storytelling with gusto. Gaster sighed, at least one crisis for the moment averted. 

* * *

Sans burrowed his head into the soft blue fuzz of his hoodie, back against the landing rail as he listened to Papyrus prattle on at Gaster downstairs. Once Papyrus had come home Sans pulled himself from his room tiredly. A part of him still couldn’t believe he was back in the capitol, with Papyrus and Gaster of all people, and a part of him still functioned as Papyrus’ main caretaker like he’d been for so long. 

Sans couldn’t even remember how long it’d been anymore, not with all the resets that had happened turning what were mere days into years and decades of fighting, trying, and failing to get the good life and good end. Sans’ shoulders hunched downward. He couldn’t hear what Gaster was saying, which meant Gaster was signing. 

“Dammit, Dings,” Sans grumbled. “Throw a guy a bone here.” He needed to know what the hell happened to land him waking up, of all times, whenever this was. He didn’t know how far into their research they were anymore, if anything had been done—if Gaster was this close to being torn from his life forever. Sans didn’t want to go through that again. The first time had been rough enough. 

When Papyrus mentioned Chara and Asriel, Sans froze completely. His eyesockets went wide, and the lights in them dimmed completely in horror. Hearing those two names from Papyrus’ lips meant it was so early within the respective timeline that, figuratively, Sans’ shouldn’t even be aware of what was going to happen. 

“No,” Sans hissed between his teeth, hands pulling the hood of his hoodie up over his head and clutching at the seams of his skull. “ _No_.” 

This was bad, bad beyond bad. Sans started to panic, remembering all of the horrible things that happened. Gaster’s experiments, Alphys’ mistakes, the several points in his own life that Sans had royally screwed up. Death, after death, after death that he’d been forced to enact or witness. The atrocities that had spanned a time far too long, long enough that when Frisk had finally crossed that door Sans wanted to be both sick with relief and with horror, raced through his mind like a rampaging bull. 

Sans whined softly. He didn’t want to go through that all again. He _couldn’t_ go through that all again. Tears gathered at his eyes, and he wondered what sort of sick game Frisk was playing now. He remembered their conversation, he remembered their last run so clearly this time—like they’d happened only moments ago, and now? Now he’d be forced to instead of relive a single day, or several hellish days, a millennium of pain and frustration? 

Tears gathered at Sans eyes, alongside rage and fear and with a blue flash Sans vanished from the guardrail. He couldn’t lose control at home, not with Gaster downstairs and Papyrus— _so young, so innocent, so unaware of everything_ —no, he couldn’t lose control there. Sans reappeared in the junkyard, and with a roaring scream showed all of the crap that washed down from the world above just why Asgore had named him Judge. 

* * *

Gaster’s head jerked upward when he felt the sudden surge of magic burst from just upstairs. His forehead furrowed, and then his eye sockets widened and he jumped away from the table and raced up the stairs. That magic was _Sans’_ , and the strength of it reminded him too much of his oldests’ nightmares and panic attacks. Gaster didn’t even notice Papyrus racing after him with a concerned yell of, “DAD?” Instead he focused on the feeling of the magic, touching down on the upstairs landing right where faint wisps of blue fire still remained as it slowly petered out. 

Papyrus swallowed and asked, hesitantly, when he saw the blank look on Gaster’s face, “DAD…?” 

Gaster raised one hand and snapped his phalanges. Instantly two Blasters flashed out of his room, eyes fluctuating between gold and teal. When Gaster looked to his youngest it was with magic burning in his sockets. 

“PAPYRUS,” Gaster drawled out, “DON’T YOU HAVE HOMEWORK?” 

Papyrus swallowed and questioned, “WHAT’S WRONG?” 

“NOTHING. LET ME HANDLE THIS. GO DO YOU HOMEWORK. WE’LL HAVE OUR FAMILY DAY AFTERWARD,” Gaster said firmly, and Papyrus nodded. He slipped around the older, taller skeleton and into his room almost silently. For a moment Gaster felt a twinge of regret. Papyrus had never seen him use magic like this, and Gaster figured his face looked something right fierce but for now he couldn’t dwell on it. 

Sans had a panic attack, Gaster noted grimly, and that meant he had to find his oldest and figure out what had set him off. He hoped it was just another nightmare and not something that tied into work, but knowing Sans it could be anything. His eldest was so _strong_ for a monster, and Gaster couldn’t blame the boy. Sans had been born, and raised, during war. 

Not a lot of children survived that. Gaster grimaced and glanced to the two Blasters that floated next to him. 

“ ~~ **F I N D H I M**~~ ,” Gaster growled, the language that came from his mouth rough, scratchy and almost terrifying in its quality. His mind was already slipping down the possible avenues that could have driven Sans into a panic attack this time. The bones of his hands creaked as he clenched them together tightly, faint purplish fire floating off of them as the Blasters turned on heel and vanished. They’d find Sans quickly, if anything, and now Gaster could focus more intently on home and what set Sans off. 

He turned sharply and faced Sans door, sockets almost burning as he flicked the door open with an exhalation of magic. Gaster knew, logically, that he’d probably end up expending most of his magical capabilities in this endeavor, but he didn’t care. Skeletons, for monsters, were highly magically gifted. It was why so few of them were left in the Underground now, most having perished in the war. 

Gaster breathed out, a slow breath that held a dark, echoing quality as he stepped through Sans’ bedroom door. The room was a mess, but Gaster expected that. He’d seen the mess briefly earlier, but then his attention had been solely on Sans. Now his gazed darted around the room, cataloguing everything clinically. Sans’ lab coat and ID tag hung off of a treadmill that sat in the corner. His desk was covered in research papers and devices that _should have been in the lab._ Gaster owed the boy a sharp talking to, apparently, but he brushed the thought aside. Paperwork, notes, clothing, snacks—everything in the room looked normal, aside from the messed bed and the sheets violently curled into a ball. 

Gaster moved fluidly over to the bed and hand one hand, now alight with magic, across the mattress and over the sheets. He shuddered at the influx of _fear_ , _terror_ , _it can’t happen again,_ and _please no’s_ that raced through him like a knife. Gaster pulled his hand back and sighed. A night terror, then, probably brought on because he’d been absent for the past week at the least. Gaster backed up, and the slipped out of the room, and then down one of the shortcuts after his Blasters. 

When he stepped out Gaster found himself in the garbage dump, which look like it’d had a _terribly bad time_ of things, given the amount of bright blue fire and chaotic destruction. In the middle of it all was Sans, curled into a ball, still in his pajamas. His hands were clenched over his skull, and Gaster’s two Blasters floated around him, crooning concernedly. Gaster waved them off and stepped over to his son, scooping the smaller skeleton up into his arms quietly. 

“ ~~ **I  M H E R E S A N S**~~ ,” Gaster crooned, and in his arms Sans shuddered. “ ~~ **H U S H . Y O U  R E S A F E.**~~ ” Carefully Gaster sunk to his knees and stroked one hand down the back of Sans’ skull soothingly. “ ~~ **I  M H E R E N O W , S A N S**~~.” There was a faint, choked sob, and then a reply just as scratchy as Gaster’s own voice, but at the same time so young and so meek. Gaster closed his eyes. 

“ ~~ **but you cant be**~~ ,” Sans phalanges shifted to grip at Gaster’s coat. “ ~~ **you cant be. your dead. dad, youre dead.**~~ ” 

“ ~~ **IM RIGHT HERE,**~~ ” Gaster repeated, words a bit quicker. “ ~~ **SANS. IT WAS A DREAM.**~~ ” 

“ ~~ **this is the dream. lies and lies and i cant go through it again dad i cant, please,**~~ ” Sans shook, and Gaster curled himself protectively around his eldest with a soft sigh. 

“ ~~ **SANS,**~~ ” Gaster said, “ ~~ **THIS IS NOT A DREAM. LISTEN TO ME. FOLLOW MY VOICE, SANS. LOOK AT ME.**~~ ” 

“ ~~ **i havent heard you speak like this in forever. i miss your voice dad. i cant watch you die again. please dont. dont leave me all alone. don't make me raise papyrus alone, dad, please. i cant do it again. i cant.**~~ ” 

“ ~~ **SANS,**~~ ” Gaster murmured patiently, “ ~~ **IM RIGHT HERE. IM NOT DEAD. LOOK AT ME, SON. LOOK AT ME.**~~ ” Carefully he coaxed Sans to look up until Sans stared at Gaster with one, brightly lit magic eye into Gaster’s twin glowing gaze. “ ~~ **THATS BETTER. FOCUS ON MY EYES. LOOK AT ME SANS. YOURE SAFE,**~~ ” Sans shuddered, his bones rattled, but Gaster repeated himself. “ ~~ **FOCUS, SANS. LOOK AT ME. YOURE SAFE. IM HERE, SON. IM HERE.**~~ ” 

It took a while before Sans stopped trying to look away, stopped repeating over and over that Gaster was dead and he couldn’t do it alone, again. It took a while for the glow to finally vanish from Sans’ eyes, but when it did Gaster breathed a sigh of relief, because the lack of magic meant the more coherent Sans became, until finally the faint pinpricks resurfaced back into his eye sockets with one last shudder. Sans glanced to the area around him, and then back up at Gaster who had a patient smile on his face. 

“….why am I in the dump?” Sans asked slowly. 

“ ~~ **YOU HAD A PANIC ATTACK,**~~ ” Gaster said carefully. 

“Dings, language,” Sans grumbled, removing one hand from Gaster’s coat to rub at his skull. 

“DO YOU HAVE A HEADACHE?” Gaster questioned, switching languages easily enough. 

“Volume, Dings,” Sans grumbled next, and Gaster coughed out of embarrassment. 

“SO-Sorry,” Gaster repeated, trying to lower his volume. “Do you have a headache?” 

“Skulls pounding like crazy, yeah,” Sans sighed tiredly. He collapsed against Gasters’ chest. He closed his eyesockets. “M’sorry, Dings.” 

“It happens,” Gaster said softly. “I understand.” Sans shook his head and made a faint whining sound as Gaster stroked his skull. “Hush, let me take care of you. Let’s go home.” 

“Don’t wanna,” Sans mumbled. 

“You can sleep in my room,” Gaster offered softly. “It’s okay, Sans. I’m here.” 

Sans was silent, but he nodded after a moment. He didn’t even have the strength to raise his arms as Gaster scooped him back up and stood tall once more. He just buried his face into Gaster’s collarbone and took in the faintly familiar feel of the older skeletons magic. 

“I missed you, dad,” Sans mumbled tiredly. 

“I’m here,” Gaster repeated. “Let’s go home.” 

“Okay…” 

“I love you.” 

“I love you too, dad,” Sans said, and Gaster paused for only a millisecond when he felt tears. He brushed them aside, and simply stepped through a shortcut. He reappeared in his bedroom with Sans, and calmly he tucked Sans into his bed. Gaster blinked in surprise to note that Sans was already passed out. He smiled. 

“I’m going nowhere,” Gaster said softly to Sans. “I promise, Sans. I’m not going anywhere.” He didn’t know why the words felt like a lie, but Gaster repeated them anyway. “I’m not going anywhere.” He swallowed heavily, eyes snapping dark as he let the magic go suddenly with a sharp feeling of _wrongness_. “I’m not going _anywhere_ ,” Gaster repeated again. He was damned if he wouldn’t keep this promise. Gaster grit his teeth, and the next second his eyes light up with flames as black as the void. “ _I’m not going anywhere, Sans,_ ” he said heavily. “ _I swear it._ ” 

Gaster found himself filled with **_d e t e r m i n a t i o n._**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot about this story that basically takes canon, then runs sideways with it. I don't think I made that pretty obvious before, but I'm making it obvious now. If you want history type of information/meta type of information in regards to this story and how I'm phrasing things, check out my [tumblr](http://xadoheadterra.tumblr.com) and hit me with an ask. I've got a ton of notes, so yeah XD


End file.
